


Dragon bone

by CissyM



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Book: Dragon Age - The Stolen Throne, Dragon Age Quest: The Landsmeet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CissyM/pseuds/CissyM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The landsmeet has finally arrived, who will emerge victorious is what worries the Teyrn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon bone

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fanfic for...well, longer than I will admit. I love it to little pieces, but I am aware that it is flawed. 
> 
> Please, don't hesitate to tell me if there are mistakes; grammar, lore, anything. English is not my first language and while I did quite some research and I am a pretty well versed Dragon age fan, there could be two million mistakes in here.
> 
> I won't say much because I don't want to spoil anything from the fanfic, but there are a big number of spoilers from The Stolen Throne and mentions of things that happened in The Calling (But the latter is not spoiled, just general knowledge anyone who has played the games will know.)
> 
> This is my interpretation of Loghain's actions and thoughts during the Landsmeet. It's okay if you disagree, I am open to debate it if you wish to, but I am personally very happy with the result, so I hope you like it.
> 
> PD: I refer to the warden using neutral pronouns so anyone can includo his/hers in it :) Also, this is either a ''Alistair rules alone'', ''Alistair/Cousland ruling'' or...I believe even ''Anora rules alone'' situation.
> 
> EDIT: Oh dear god, Ao3 completely messed up the format of the fanfic, I am so sorry, I just realised. It should be fixed now.

“The Warden! I’m with the Warden!”

He raised an eyebrow, staring right into Vaughan’s eyes. Did someone free him? He'd expected the elven servants to feast upon him in the dungeons once Howe died, but he was out and well. By his enthusiastic claims one could only guess who had accomplished such brave deed.

Spoiled sadistic bastard, he should have ordered to have him executed. With as little honour and brains as he usually displayed, he had, most likely, changed his vote to whatever suited his “righteous” saviour.

Loghain clenched his teeth and stood still, waiting for further deliberation.

“South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens.”

He almost felt the need to snort at that one.  
That wasn't a big surprise, one could say. Bryland had been hoping for Howe’s death since the Battle of White River, the arl could never support someone allied to him, even if already dead. That Howe rat brought him nothing but trouble in the end, attack the Couslands…What a horrendous idea, to kill a whole family of brave revolution supporters who fought at Maric’s side, and all because of pure rotten greed. He should’ve seen it coming, but his need for alliance blinded him.

In addition, Lothering being completely whipped out of the map by darkspawn eliminated any chance of South Reach supporting him, but Loghain never expected otherwise.

He took a deep breath and called out for patience in his thoughts.

“Waking Sea stands with the Grey Warden!”

“ _Damnation to them all!_ ” Loghain’s knuckles turned white and a cold sweat rolled down his temple.  
How could they be so blind? How could they not see how he wanted to help Ferelden stand against their biggest threat? They were handling their own country to Orlais on a silver plate. So many years of endless war and suffering through occupation, all thrown away by the very same order that should have never been admitted back into their borders in the first place. He had told the King, he had warned him about this! How could they trust these characters when they had betrayed them before? Compromising their own code of honour, breaking their neutrality to fight the rightful rulers of the land!

Not to mention, of course, that the first re-established wardens were of Orlesian origin.

But of course, he didn’t listen. He never did.

“Dragon’s Peak supports the Warden!”

His head snapped towards Sighard, who didn’t even flinch at his icy stare. “ _How…?_ ” He had lost, the Landsmeet had decided. “ _This is not possible._ ” There was a majority of support towards the Warden.

“ _…Is this my punishment, Maric? I've done everything I could to protect what you so rightfully fought for with all your being …Have I gone too far?_ ’’ A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, each of them headed in a different direction. “ _I did what I did to keep Ferelden ours, I could not let them take it away from our people, not even If Cailan’s life depended on it. You have to understand._ ” Loghain swallowed, hard. Everyone knew he was done for, the Warden most of all. That kid had officially doomed all of Ferelden, and all the smug bastard did was smile.

“The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us.”

Wulff should not have been a surprise, but it still stung. One of the most powerful nobles in all Ferelden standing beside the traitor was something he could not allow, but the mention of the Blight was his downfall regarding Wulff’s trust. He had lost all his family to this tainted invasion after all.

…

Loghain looked up, maybe hoping for a divine sign. For Maric to tell him that everything would be okay, for Rowan to punch him, or for both of them to tell another neverending story about something they did with the Rebel Queen back in the day. Anything his friends brought to his life used to be better than this, even Maric’s constant out of place horrible jokes would be much appreciated at the moment.

But of course none of that could ever happen again.

For multiple reasons, first and foremost, they were at the Maker's side. But it had to be said…If they were still alive he would’ve died by their hand as soon as Cailan perished by his. It was becoming more and more obvious It was all their doing.

He sighed. “ _You are punishing me._ ” Loghain Finally admitted. “ _But I refuse to accept any wrongdoing, I was and still am fighting for Ferelden’s long-term independence._ ” Looking down, biting his lip, he continued excusing his behaviour throughout these dark times. “ _You did have a severe problem understanding necessary sacrifices…Even after Katriel._ ”

He could see Maric’s frown and hopeless eyes forming as if someone had engraved the broken soul of his friend with fire inside his mind. Regret always filled him when that thought appeared, not because he was ever wrong about it, but because one never wishes to bring despair to their loved ones, even if it is for their own sake.  
So many years after his death it still shamed him.

“I stand by Loghain! We’ve no hope of victory otherwise. “

Ceorlic, as expected…He would be glad for his support if it weren’t based in fear. Sometimes it was necessary to use such methods, but he was by no means happy about it. After all, those were the ones the nobles and Templars from his youth used to bully his father’s clan. He liked to believe he was better than that…  
Then again believes and facts were not always the same.

“I stand with the Warden! The blight is coming: we need the Grey Wardens!”

The crowd grew wild with the noble’s statement, an outcry ran from mouth to mouth supporting the Warden. Everyone seemed to think Ferelden needed a killing blow for Orlais to feast upon its remains. Loghain’s blood was boiling, every word spoken in favour of them was like salt on an open wound, his pride and honour were being questioned in front of the whole Landsmeet.

“The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain. Step down gracefully.”Oh, and that kid even dared to address him directly after such an insult, he could feel his veins about to pop from pure hatred. It hadn’t been fair, none of it had, the child’s plan was foolish! Ferelden needed nothing from other races to stop the blight, even less from the murderers next door! All they needed was careful planning and bringing this nonsense to an end. A Civil war in the middle of a darkspawn outbreak, who had the amazing idea?

“Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? “He shouted, looking around. Daring one soul to stay put against his judgment, and failing to meet one single face that didn’t look away in shame, remembering a past still fresh in everyone’s lifes. No one liked to be called a traitor, even less with good reason. Despite Loghain’s questionable methods, no one denied he wasn’t all that paranoid about the Orlesians; most of them knew they would strike again someday. The empire didn’t give in easily. “You fought with us once, Eamon.“ Continued now facing the Arl, who stiffened at the mention of his name. Eamon Guerrin…He had known his father, Rendorn Guerrin. A magnificent warrior and even better strategist. He raised one of the best Queens Ferelden had ever seen.

He remembered the Arl’s sister…Rowan. As brave and strong as she was beautiful. He had loved her for as long as he could remember. His own marriage fell utterly short in comparison, but respect always came first regarding the Queen…And the man she married. They had their chance, and Loghain missed it to benefit the future crown of Ferelden. As much as he’d like to say he never regretted it…It would be an atrocious lie.

“You cared about this land once. Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk.” An obvious frown grew on Eamon’s face, but he didn’t care. Speaking the truth didn’t have to be pleasant, and he had never been a liar…or particularly nice.

Well, that changed depending on the company, of course. But he hadn’t accomplished his reputation being an agreeable person.

One thing Mac Tir knew for sure was that Eamon’s Marcher upbringing had completely wronged his ideals. Rowan would’ve been a way better Arlessa than his brother could ever be. She knew the true suffering this land had to go through, she knew what was lost and could never return, while his middle brother had no idea and worked on pride alone.

“None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! “ Risking everything he had down in the deep roads, looking for a desperate way to reborn the rebellion “ _Maker’s breath, I had to kick conspiracy plots out of the King’s undergarments!_ ” No one sacrificed and worked more than him and yet they all drew their blades against his leadership. “How dare you judge me! “

Everyone stood quiet looking at the Warden, waiting for instruction, a word, anything really. After that monologue no one knew what to do, if either attack or retreat and let the old hero celebrate his own lost glory, while they all licked their wounds made from the few sharp truths he said.

“Call off your men and we’ll settle this honourably.”

A rising murmur rose around the room and Loghain raised an eyebrow “ _A duel?...Hm. Fair enough._ ” With a single nod and a long sigh out of utter frustration, he answered.”Then, let us end this.”

Even if his age seemed a disadvantage, the experience of a war full of never-ending battles covered him from head to toe under his armour. He was still fast, even in heavy plate, and none of them had ever seen him fight, which was an obvious advantadge for him.

If he looked at it with some common sense, it was the only possible solution given the circumstances. “I suppose we both knew it would come to this.”And to think he had met the Warden so long ago, and…Well, he had met a child, a soon to be Grey Warden, back at Ostagar.

Dear Maker... His stomach flinched at the mere thought of the dreadful memory of that place.

“When we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else.” Or at least that is what he wanted to believe. Forgetting was easier, leaving Cailan and the army behind was the best he could do…For his sake, and Ferelden’s.

And yet looking at the Warden he realised the journey had not been there just for himself; it had also been there for all of them, the leader and the followers. They had been chasing each other as if playing some sick game of cat and mice, and none of them had ever been truly successful. As much as he dreaded to admit it, they had proved to be a challenge.”A man is made by que quality of his enemies, Maric told me that once.”Closing his fists once again, he finished the thought out loud. “I wonder if it’s more a compliment to you or me.”He stepped away and looked back at the nobles to avoid meeting the Warden’s eyes.

“Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel.”His voice regained power and authority once he faced everyone else. “ _…Before I say something I could regret. Stay focused, Loghain, win this battle and Ferelden will be safe._ ” Maybe if he believed hard enough, it would become true.

“It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome.” He nodded, as expected. All he needed to do was anticipate the enemy’s moves with keen eye and know where to land his blows.

“Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?” Nothing would ease his mind more than ending the Warden himself, but sadly it was not his choice to make.

  
“Alistair is my champion.” The boy emerged from behind the group with a thankful smile in his face followed by a trusting touch on the leader’s shoulder.

“Then let us test the mettle of our would-be King. Prepare yourself.” The so-called bastard was the champion, how appropriate. He would’ve continued mocking that impostor if it weren’t for his next move…He drew his sword.

And yes, quite logical for one about to step into combat, but that was no ordinary sword. Dragon-bone, blue bright dwarven runes spread all over the blade; the most curious yet elegant shape, only expected from dwarf craftsmanship, full of edges and delicate curves. As clean and sharp as it had been the last time he saw it at the edge of the Korcari Wilds. “ _Maker’s breath._ ” Was the only thing that crossed the man’s mind as his throat dried and he began to sweat. That was Maric’s sword.

As Alistair charged, he drew his own blade, meeting the ice cold material of his friend’s most treasured weapon. He had to take a couple of steps back, surprised. But Mac Tir managed to respond the attack with equal strength. Loghain couldn’t believe it, but each action, every single one of them, brought back the King’s ghost to his mind. He couldn’t focus. Pain and regret filled him whenever a hit landed too close to flesh, his breath caught as soon as their eyes met when peaking from behind shields. He was a mess, a real mess. “ _I need to stop this. He is not Maric, nor will ever be. Maric is dead. Maric. Is. Dead._ ” He might be his son, but he had to stop mixing them before going mad.

Finally, Alistair hit his shield creating a vibration that crept up his arm leaving a painful stiffness after it. He had to endure, he had to fight to victory…Even if those eyes had the same spark, even if his movements were as erratic and strategic, even if the sword blinded him with memories that pained his heart.

Even…even If he had to kill Maric’s son again.

Why does he have to be so much like him? Why did it feel as if he was fighting his friend?

“ _Maric could never forgive you…Face it._ ”

Killing Cailan wasn’t easy, or intentional, but he never had to face him, not like this, not where he could feel the pain stabbing him directly. Sensing Maric’s anger, sadness, disappointment…The next blow landed on his hip, and he fell.

Sweat rolled down his cheeks, he never liked close combat. The bow had always suited him better, he was equally good with both, but he had always preferred the fly of a perfectly placed arrow than swords dancing. With obvious struggle he managed to stand up again and swing his sword towards the enemy with all his strength, managing to cut Alistair’s thigh. Everyone had thought he wouldn’t put that much of a fight due to his age, Ferelden's future was more important than anything; More important than him, than Anora, than Rowan’s son, than Maric’s son, than everything he had ever loved.

With his eyes red and filled with tears formed by physical pain and past demons, Loghain stumbled until he had to stand on his sword for a few moments. His foe took advantage of it, slicing part of his cheek, but at the last mere seconds of the attack Mac Tir managed to fall back, hitting the floor once again.

A dry grunt of frustration filled the room as he rose up again, soaked with blood, sweat and silent tears that mixed together forming a sick metaphor of his life, now reaching its end.

Loghain’s loud war cry hurt Alistair’s ears, making him lose equilibrium before he fell onto his back, confused at the pure rage the old man had inside of him.  
“ _I sacrificed everything, my whole life, to serve this country. I ignored my heart endless times because it got in the way of Ferelden. I’ve been hurt, insulted, underappreciated, lied to, and overall miserable for as long as I can remember. Do you want to hate me, Maric!? So hate me!_ ” He charged towards the kid, sword high, focused on hitting vital organs while he stayed on the ground. Alistair rolled to the left, trying to avoid the fatal wound. “ _Despise me if you want! Hunt me for all eternity!_ ” When a new cry came out, his voice cracked as he dug the sword once again into the ground and his victim continued rolling, trying to get up in the scarce moments Loghain needed to recover from each blow. “ _BUT I WILL STAND STRONG FOR FERELDEN UNTIL THE MAKER TAKES ME FROM THIS WORLD!_ ”

One last powerful swing ended up slicing Alistair’s arm, forcing him to drop the shield and scream until his throat hurt, but the kid wasn’t about to let the man who killed Duncan get away with yet another death, not after that whole journey. Charged with adrenaline, he swung his sword towards Mac Tir and stabbed the man’s shoulder, pushing him away and earning a muffled cry in exchange. Now neither of them could carry their shields.

“ _Why? WHY!? Maric, answer me! WHY!?_ ” He demanded loud in his thoughts while retreating like a pathetic kicked dog, whining under his breath with each movement. It was quite obvious at that point that he was crazy. Loghain actually expected an answer from his long dead friend, the loss of blood and desperation were making him lose his mind. “ _Why do you want me dead!? Is it because I killed your son!? Because I abandoned the grey wardens in the battlefield!? Or because I want to brake the Theirin royal bloodline!?_ ” Using both the sword arm and his forehead, he rose up again with much difficulty, just to realise his enemy had already noticed his lack of stamina at this stage of combat. “Maker, give me a break.” He mumbled under his breath trying to regain composure.

But as he looked again at the young man…He saw someone else. He was the spitting image of his “said to be” father. Dripping blood, dwarven rune sword high, shifting his weight to the injured leg to get a sting of pain and remain conscious. That fierce, intense determination…Just as Maric in the deep roads. Always determined…” _You never cared about bloodlines…You didn’t even care about the crown until you noticed how much suffering there would be without your leadership._ ” He killed a soft whimper before it could escape. “ _I miss you so much, my friend._ ”

Both of his hands were trembling at this point. Loghain was tired, terribly tired…of everything. He could barely hold his sword because of raw emotion. One last attack, he would never be able to stand more. “Of course you wouldn’t understand why I did all of this. Between the two of us…You always were the better man.” Both of them sprinted towards the other and the high pitched sound of both swords colliding destabilised the older warrior, making him lose momentum and giving Alistair the breach to finally finish the battle. With a twirl of metal and quick reflexes, he stabbed the Hero of River Dane around his waist. “I killed your son. How could anyone understand such sin.” He thought with a bitter smile before coughing out some blood, pushing down his sword to the ground to avoid meeting the floor face first.

“So, there is some of Maric in you after all. Good.” He admitted, still not losing the sour tone. Perhaps Ferelden wasn’t as lost as he had thought. Maybe there was some light at the end of the tunnel if the kid was like his father. Brave, charismatic, bright and utterly annoying. How his friend managed to enchant both him and the rest of the world…Loghain wasn’t sure. But to this day, he had never felt more ashamed and undeserving of said friendship.

“Forget Maric, this is for Duncan.” Alistair added as he rose that sword, runes brightly shinning to candle light. Oh, Maker. He could only smile at the irony as one last tear escaped hiding in plain sight due to his sweat.

“ _Maric, I’m so sor-…_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> And we're done! The curtain closes and everyone deserves a good round of applause! 
> 
> I hope it was at the very least interesting, I had an amazing time writing this, so one can only hope.
> 
> Kudos and comments are really appreciated <3


End file.
